


Saturday Night Freak Show

by MissMoe



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Asami's birthday gift to Takaba, Dancing, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoe/pseuds/MissMoe
Summary: It’s Saturday night and Asami has agreed to give Takaba whatever he wants for his birthday.Or, the one where Asami embarrasses the shit out of himself for his sweet love muffin.





	Saturday Night Freak Show

 

“I’m not wearing this,” Asami declared, his tone a blunt instrument designed to crush hopes with one blow.

That did little to deter Takaba, who got right up into Asami's stern face, eyes flashing, hair teased and feathered out and sprayed solid. “Oh, yes you are. You said I could have whatever I want for my birthday.” At that, Takaba whipped out his phone and pressed ‘play’ on the video he had recorded a month ago. Sure enough, there was Asami waving Takaba off with a dismissive, “Fine, we can do what you want for your birthday. Now spread those legs for me wider.”

Asami sighed with frustration and shook the suit jacket in his hands like he was trying to strangle an animal. “Look at these lapels. They’re the size of _bathmats_ , for shit’s sake! How can you expect me to wear this?” He tossed the offending article of clothing across the room and made for the wet bar, where he was going to pour himself a double shot of whisky. God, did he need a drink _ever_. Takaba wasn’t finished with him, though, trailing behind him like an obnoxious puppy nipping at his heels. 

“But the theme is _Saturday Night Fever_ and you _promised_ me!” Takaba stamped his feet into the carpet, fists clenched at his sides, cartoon jets of steam shooting out of his ears. “We _practiced_ , for crying out loud!”

If there was one thing Asami hated, it was being nagged at, one of the reasons he could never abide keeping a long-term lover, because…the nagging. He couldn’t even fathom why he was putting up with this from Takaba. If it were anyone else, there would be brains splattered across all four walls right now. Instead, Asami slammed the 52,000,000 Yen bottle of Macallan whisky onto the tray and gulped down the drink instead of sipping it slowly, he was so annoyed, as if those ridiculous dance lessons weren’t bad enough! He let the whisky burn down his throat and into his belly, where the heat settled onto his roiling gut like a favorite security blanket. Thank the fuck god for quality alcohol.

“If you don’t wear the suit,” Takaba threatened, “then my ass is closed for business!”

Two hours later, Asami arrived at the club in Roppongi that idiots like Takaba found so thrilling. Even worse, he was wearing the offensive white suit jacket with the bathmat-sized lapels, matching polyester vest and slacks, and the top three buttons of his black shirt unbuttoned to reveal his smooth chest. A clunky crucifix on a heavy gold chain dangled at his throat. Takaba, meanwhile, was dressed in an equally hideous outfit: an embroidered and sequined floral print shirt with collars wide enough to have a picnic on and brown corduroy bellbottoms that made Asami cringe like mad. This was going to be a long night from hell.

“Wait here for us,” Asami grumbled to his trusty driver and right-hand man.

Kirishima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nodded in sympathy. He waited until Asami and Takaba had disappeared inside the club before he let out a roar of laughter. It had taken all his will power and self-control to contain himself, but now in the quiet privacy of the car he let it all out, resting his forehead on the steering wheel as his body shook with glee. He had warned his boss long ago, telling him, “That brat is nothing but trouble.” Normally, his boss never even wanted to see the same lover more than once or twice and so it was unusual for Kirishima to comment on Asami’s personal matters. Takaba was cute in that boyish way—nothing more than an adorable gutter rat trying to be a photojournalist of all stupid things—but when Asami insisted on paying the boy visits at three in the morning, and then making the boy live in his penthouse suite, Kirishima knew his boss was getting in too deep. Tonight, however, was proof positive that Asami had completely lost his mind. After some minutes, Kirishima took off his glasses and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes with a handkerchief. Then he texted the photo he had stealthily taken earlier of an atrociously decked-out Asami and Takaba to his colleague Suoh, who had the night off.

In less than thirty seconds, his phone dinged with a reply from Suoh: _WTF?_

Kirishima texted back: _I know, right?_

With a satisfied grin, Kirishima lit a cigarette and relaxed back in his seat. This was going to be a great night.

Inside the club, things weren’t exactly panning out to be Asami’s idea of fun, but seeing Takaba so happy made it bearable by the slimmest of margins. His sweet little Akihito was turning twenty-four but still acting like a fifteen-year-old dumbass, talking too loudly and excitedly to his two loser buddies, Kou and Takato. They sat at a table overlooking the dance floor, their drinks served by women wearing sparkly blue eye shadow and one-piece spandex outfits that accentuated every bump and curve, good or bad. “Never again,” Asami mused to himself as he threw down another drink, “I will never promise Takaba anything ever again.” He was a man of his word, though, so he had suffered through four weeks of private dance lessons with Takaba, all for this moment when one song ended and the first strains of the next one reverberated from the speakers and Takaba jumped out of his seat and veritably shrieked with joy.

“That’s our song!” Takaba screamed into Asami’s mortified face.

Asami was pulled onto the dance floor and all he could do was shut his brain down because if he allowed himself to even think about what he was going to do, well, he would fucking die on the spot for sure. He let his mind drift away into the ether, let the bone-shaking thud of the music take over, and then he turned his body loose, striking a pose at just the right moment, arm in the air, finger pointing up, then down, hips undulating with the beat as he moved across the dance floor, disco ball scattering shards of light all over Takaba as the birthday boy danced with and around him, bellbottoms flapping at his ankles, feathered hair a solid helmet about his shining face, and all Asami could think was, “He’s never looked more beautiful.”

___________

So, here's my inspiration for Asami's outfit and the dance he has to do with Takaba: [More Than a Woman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fy0rYUvn7To)

But THIS is the dance that I'd really like to see Asami doing: [You Should Be Dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0lm58cet1g)

 

 


End file.
